There was no hesitation, no question, not even the slightest moment of doubt in Marigold’s mind. “Of course. I’m happy to do it.”
Well, maybe happy wasn’t the perfect word to describe what she was feeling, but she had no reservations that it was what she needed to do.
“Marigold.” Her mother looked at her, aghast. Her sisters seemed stricken as well.
“What?” Marigold asked. “He’s in this condition because of me. Who else is going to help him if I don’t? It’s not even a question.”
The rightness of it didn’t mean her heart wasn’t breaking over what she’d be losing. But it was absolutely what had to be done. And she was the one who had to do it.
Pandora was practically sputtering. “B-but you have a child to raise. A fledgling witch who’s going to need your guidance and direction. The kind of nurturing that only another witch can give her.”
Marigold shrugged. “I agree, so it’s a good thing I have two sisters and a mother who fit that description. And that’s why we have the mentorship program in the coven.”
“But you’re her mother,” Pandora argued.
“That’s not going to change just because I’m no longer a witch.”
Charisma shook her head. “You can’t do this, Mari. You barely know this man. That’s too much to give up for him. Even if you think you’re falling for him. There’s no guarantee he’s going to feel the same way about you once he’s transformed.”
Marigold knelt beside Wyatt. “This isn’t about my feelings for him or his feelings for me, whatever those might be. This is about doing what’s right.”
“My dear, caring child,” Corette said. “Your kindness and generosity are without question. But you need your gifts not just for your daughter, but for your business.” She gestured around the shop. “This place was built on your abilities as a green witch.”
“Then is one of you better suited to lose your powers? I don’t think so. Charisma relies on her ability to see auras to help her clients. You use your gifts to aid brides in finding their perfect dress, plus you’re the secretary of the coven. And Pandora only just got her gifts working right, so there’s no way she can be expected to give them up.”
Her mother and sisters just stood there silently. Probably because they knew she was right.
Marigold smiled to keep from crying. “My green thumb isn’t going to disappear because I can no longer speak to the flowers with my magic. I can still be a florist. My business won’t be affected very much. And Saffron has all of you to guide her.”
She put her hand on Wyatt’s ivy-covered chest. Angry magic stung her hand like wasps, but she held the contact, hoping he could feel it and understand she was there with him. And on his side. “I am the only one who can do this. And it’s my responsibility anyway. Now we’re not discussing it anymore.”
Her mother and sisters continued to hold their tongues, but the looks they were exchanging weren’t lost on Marigold. She knew they disagreed with her. But the matter was decided. She pushed to her feet. “Where are we doing this?”
Corette swallowed before she spoke. “Alice said she would handle all the setup and we should bring him to Elenora’s.”
Marigold nodded. “Then that’s what we need to do.”
Wyatt was being held underwater. That’s what it felt like anyway. Being held underwater, but being able to breathe at the same time. Sort of. He was floating. Or drowning. No, he was sinking. Into darkness.
That darkness covered him like oil and was just as impossible to be rid of. There was no freeing himself from it, no matter how hard he fought and struggled and shoved against it.
No stopping the terrible things the darkness pushed from his mouth.
And as if being deaf in one ear wasn’t bad enough, sounds were even more muffled with whatever was going on.
He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he was aware of enough to know that it wasn’t good. The darkness wasn’t just the lack of light in his world, it felt very much like a living force that was trying to wrest away his self-control.
It was winning. Not quickly, not as long as he fought. But he was ever so slowly losing his grip on…himself.
The words the darkness had caused him to say…terrible things…and the things he had threatened… But it wasn’t him. It was the malevolence gnawing at him. He shuddered and vowed to fight harder.
Fighting was getting more difficult, though. The reasons why he should fight were fading, replaced by an unnatural serenity. The odd calm was being induced by the dark force. He knew that. No matter how much he dug down, he couldn’t bring up the things he knew he should be feeling. Anger. Frustration. Fear.
All of those normal emotions were being held underwater with him.
There was the occasional spot of sun. Marigold.
He could see her now and then when she moved into his narrowed field of vision. She looked very far away, but he recognized her beautiful face. He’d also grasped that her mother and sister were around him. Another woman too, but he didn’t recognize her voice.
Words were hit or miss, but their tones came through. And once in a while, his name. They were talking about him. And about something very, very bad that had happened to him.
He didn’t know what that thing was exactly, but he knew what had caused it.
The pendant. That stupid piece of jewelry was to blame. Why had he picked it up? Why had he put it on? Because it had called out to him. Compelled him. He’d been powerless to stop his own movements.
That wretched pendant. Where was it? He focused on it with all of his energy and suddenly felt it around his neck.
It was the anchor weighing him down. Dragging him deeper.
And he realized with great certainty that if he hit bottom, he would never return to the surface.
That’s where life was. Where Marigold was.
He was dying.
The panic he should have felt floated away on a bubble, rising up, up, up until it popped and he forgot what emotion he’d even been thinking about.
The landscape above him changed. Lights shifted. Shadows flitted over him. He was moving. Brightness filled his vision. He was outside. The brightness faded. He was inside again. Something metal surrounded him. It smelled sweet and mechanical.
A thin grumbling sound hummed through him. A motor. The metal surrounding him was a vehicle. The flower shop’s delivery van. The women were taking him somewhere. To help him, he hoped.
Their voices echoed against the metal, making them impossible to decipher.
He focused on the pendant again. It burned his skin. Made him feel like something was crawling over him. Into him.
He couldn’t move. All he could do was think, and even that wasn’t easy.
But there were two things he knew.
Magic was real.
And this pendant was bad.
But the thought registered in the same way that he might think about whether to have his club sandwich on white or wheat.
It was just a fact. Nothing more. Because there was nothing he could do about it. No way to make himself react. The dark force prevented it.
He drifted lower, and the light above him faded a little more. The sounds grew farther away as he sank deeper into the darkness.
He imagined most people would retreat to their happiest memories at a time like this, but he didn’t have many of those.
His days on the force. Those were good. Those were happy. But a lot of them were sad, too. That was just part of the job. The people, he thought. The people he’d worked with. They were good. His brothers and sisters in blue.
And then there was Marigold. Bright, smiling, sunshiny Marigold. She was a happy memory. The happiest.
So he thought about her. Marigold the beautiful. Marigold the mother. Marigold the florist. Marigold the witch.
She was a witch. She’d told him that. He tried to understand what that meant. Tried to speak the word. “Witch,” he whispered.
But maybe he hadn’t said anything at all.
Marigold whipped around to look at Wyatt. “What?”
Across from her, Pandora shook her head. “I didn’t say anything.”
Marigold frowned. “No, I think Wyatt did.”
She and Pandora were with him in the back of the delivery van. Their mother was driving, and Charisma was in the passenger seat. Marigold leaned down, putting her ear to his ivy-covered mouth. “Say it again.”
But he was silent.
“Maybe you just thought you heard it.” Pandora put her hand on the van’s metal side. “It’s noisy back here without insulation or carpet to deaden the road noise.”
Marigold nodded. “It’s a delivery van. No need for that stuff.” She put her hand on his chest again. The magic felt stronger. Angier.
Her heart ached. They had better rescue Wyatt fast. In a way, the need to hurry was good. It meant less time to think about what was going to happen.
How she wasn’t going to be a witch anymore. She stared at his ivy-covered form, the green blurring as tears filled her eyes.
“Hey,” Pandora said softly. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Marigold nodded. “Yes. I can’t let him die.”
“No, of course not. We won’t let that happen. It’s just…”
“I know,” Marigold said. She gave herself a mental shake. Lots of people went through life with no powers or magical gifts. Pandora had done it for years. She smiled at her sister. “It’s not that big of a deal. You survived without usable magic.”
Pandora gave a little half-smile. “Yeah, I did. But I didn’t have the added difficulty of knowing what good, working powers were like.”
Marigold shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll get to live on both sides of things. If I need anything magic, you guys will help me.”
Pandora leaned in enthusiastically. “Oh honey, you know it. You just call me any time. I mean it. And if this guy doesn’t appreciate what you’re doing for him, then I swear, I will turn him into a—”
“Pandy, he doesn’t have to appreciate it. I’m sure he will, but that’s not why I’m doing this.”
Pandora sighed and sat back. “I know. But still. He’d better.”
Marigold laughed softly. Sisters were the best.
“I’ll mentor Saffie if she wants me to.”
“You’re already mentoring Kaley.”
“I can handle two.”
“No,” Marigold said. “Kaley is about to be your stepdaughter. You need to give her all your attention. Mom can help Saffie.”
Corette looked over her shoulder. “That is a task I will gladly take.”
Pandora looked a little weepy again. “You’re such a good person, Mari. You don’t deserve this.”
Marigold spread her fingers in the ivy, feeling the sting of the dark magic but unwilling to break contact with Wyatt. “Neither does he. It’s going to be okay.”
Pandora reached out and put her hand on Marigold’s, then sucked in a breath and yanked it back. She rubbed her thumb against her palm. “Yikes, what is that?”
“The pendant’s darkness.”
Pandora grimaced. “Do you think Wyatt can feel that or just us because we’re already attune to magic?”
“I hope just us. Because otherwise, he’s in a lot of pain.” Pain Marigold would soon release him from.
Then she would have a different kind of pain to deal with. One that would be with her for the rest of her life.